


december 18th: hammer and nail

by watergator



Series: december fic advent 2019 [18]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Foster Care, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: prompt: firstthe first week with a teenager is always hard
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: december fic advent 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559341
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	december 18th: hammer and nail

The first few months are hard.

Dan learns this through trial and error, although some trials feel like pulling teeth at first rather than anything else. 

It’s worth it, he keeps reminding himself. All this frustration and feeling of incompetence must be worth it in the long run; for them, or maybe for Dylan.

Dylan is a difficult kid. Dan remembers when people would say the same about him:

_ A disruption and distraction in class.  _

His reports would all read the same, not that it mattered; that same piece of paper would be given nothing more than a quick few second glance before it just put away somewhere, never to be thought about again until the next year rolled around and the same traditions rolled around of Dan doing badly and his parents not caring.

He thinks that’s part of the reason why he decided to do this.

He wasn’t an awfully deprived child; his parents weren’t overly neglectful or abusive and he was always well aware of how much,  _ much _ more worse he could have had it, more than his good old fashioned latchkey kid title. He knew that.

But sometimes when he was growing up he wished he had that extra support and love his parents just couldn’t always achieve.

And it took him a long time to figure out that is was  _ because  _ they couldn’t, not because they wouldn’t.

Therapy has pushed him through a few years of that trauma, and whilst he still has a while to go, he’s grateful for the progress he’s made so far, wearing it like an honourable badge of “Fuck yeah, I did it.”

And that’s how they’ve ended up here.

The house was the first step, the second step was getting approved as healthy and fit enough foster carers.

It’d been a slow and painfully long process of uncertainty and doubt that had Dan flipping between decisions and options.

As time ticked by, news trickling by and obstacles popping up, Dan started to question whether it was really worth it all.

Of course, children was something he had a heart set on, something they’d both agreed on, through the highs and the lows, they both had it set that some point in their life together, they’d wanted kids.

But as soon as things starting pushing them back further and further from their dream, Dan would get angry and suggest that maybe this route of having kids just wasn’t meant to be; and to just find a surrogate and do their own thing.

But the idea of them having a child that’s biologically theirs was enough to made Dan’s stomach crawl.

A child that’s Phil would only fill him with hatred and low confidence; a child that had no real connection to him would make him feel second best; fear that his own kid might not be able to love him, and the same for him to love them.

And a child that would be Dan’s only felt worse. He’d live in constant fear that they’d turn out like him, or maybe worse, only to grow up hating him for choosing to have a kid with his wonky brain chemicals and shit personality.

So the only real decision they had between them was either adoption or fostering.

And after some research and late night googling and forty thousand paces up and down his bedroom, enough to burn holes through his floorboards, he learnt that it was most likely that only babies and newborns got adopted. Most children over the age of five usually didn’t even get the chance.

The young kids and preteens in care would simply bounce from house to house with no real feeling of love and nurture, and all Dan wanted to give that to some kid that needed and feel appreciated enough. 

So when Dylan came through their front door with that sad little black bin bag and scuffed trainers and a worrisome look on his face, Dan was more than ready to welcome him with open arms and practically smother him in love like he’d been waiting to do for months.

But Dylan isn’t as welcoming 

He’s temperamental; a fifteen year old temper at the end of a match that’s seemingly lit all the time. He’s an angry child that bursts into explosions at the slightest of inconveniences.

He doesn’t like Dan and Phil.

They both try; giving him space as well as trying to make him feel included, but nothing works.

At first it’s a simmering kind of anger. It starts off with the cold shoulder, and Dan can let it slide. Phil says it’ll take time and that they can only wait.

Dan agrees, until he has no choice to believe that nothing will ever change.

Dylan becomes more angry as time passes. He pushes buttons, testing and teasing until he figures out when he can get away with.

It’s hard because at first they’re unsure of what’s fair and what isn’t. 

One day he lashes out about having made to have dinner at the table with them. Dan’s first reaction is to tell him he’s wrong and he has to be part of the family but he holds back his tongue and Phil reminds him that family stuff doesn’t always come easy to him and that Dan has to try to be a bit more lenient.

It works for a little bit, and Dylan seems to notice because it doesn’t take long for him to up the ante.

Angry mutters turn into side comments. Snide comments turn into angry jeers and angry jeers eventually escalates into shouting matches which leads to the grand finale of door slamming and stomping around. 

Dan and Phil have meetings with their social worker and Dylan’s social worker trying to figure out some kind of plan to make sure things finally start moving forward for the three of them.

Dylan doesn’t seem very appreciative of the help from both social workers. He curses them out and when Phil tells him to mind his language he simply tells Phil to fuck off before stomping to his room.

Things quickly progress from bad to worse, and Dan feels like he’s slowly starting to lose his grip on his idea of being able to be a good foster parent.

They have meetings with the school as well as all the social services involved in Dylan’s case. They all talk about how he’s a clever kid who lacks the ability to focus and concentrate in school and that the new move to his new home may be a contributing factor.

Dan sits at the table in the little school office room and feels his stomach drop to his knees.

He knows something like this would be coming.

A teacher looks him dead in the eye; a cold hard stare that makes Dan feels about thirteen again.

She clears his throat and Dan presses his leg up against Phil’s as if to prepare them both for what’s to come.

They talk about making things better for them all, making sure things are safe and that they’re putting everything in place to make it the best environment for a child in care.

Some of the things they suggest don’t  _ sound  _ like they’re the best things for a child in care, but rather for their own jobs and asses.

It makes Dan angry and once they get home Dan has to go lay down to gather his thoughts and make sure he doesn’t explode like he so desperately wants.

As time goes on, more weeks go by, and nothing seems to be working. Dylan’s behaviour only gets worse, both at school and at home, and it’s starting to take its toll on them both.

Each argument between them and Dylan leaves them snappy and short.

Dylan screams, makes a fuss and once he’s slunk off to his room, Dan and Phil begin to turn against each other.

It’s no hell bent screaming match that they maybe envisioned, but it’s snide comments and angry muttering sand frustrated sighs.

They go to bed left on an argument almost every night that makes Dan bury his head into his pillow and will himself to cry.

Things are bad, and Dan knows it. The perfect family idea that he had mapped out is taking a turn for the worse. The match lit is now a raging fire, ready to spread and burn through everything he has. He can already feel the pressure it’s putting on the two of them and Dan knows it’s only a matter of time they start sleeping apart, now that the petty little arguments start to dig deep into their bedtime routine. 

Dylan doesn’t seem to care, oblivious to the damage he’s causing, the hurt he’s knotting up between them and it makes Dan angry - furious, even. He wants to grab him by the shoulders and tell him what he’s doing and what it is he’s destroying.

But logic pulls through and he knows that’s not the right choice to make. He knows that Dylan may be an annoyingly cruel kid, but he means no harm. It’s a hard life he’s lived and there’s only so much Dan can do with the knowledge he has to help undo the hurt he’s felt before.

That is, until one day after school Dylan comes home from school in a foul mood.

He refuses to eat, calls Phil’s cooking “rat shit disgusting,” and explains that he doesn’t want to be bothered and left alone in his room.

Until Dan decides he’s had enough.

He physically cannot go on like this. Mentally he’s not sure how much further he can continue until he properly falls apart. He takes in a breath and asks Dylan to hold back.

All of the tension over the last few months, all of the anguish and anger and pain and confusion; this is where it’s all lead up to.

“Dylan,” Dan says, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. As much as he wishes he could run away from this conversation, hide under the covers and have a good cry, he has to be the responsible adult here. It’s all he can do now.

“Dylan, we need to have a family chat.”

He catches Phil look at him, head turning to fast it might as well fall off.

Dylan stares at him through narrowed eyes before he cracks a laugh. It’s far from funny though, rather cruel and mocking.

“A family chat?” He sneers.

Dan swallows thickly. He’s an adult, Dylan is not, he reminds himself. He can do this. He has to.

“Yes,” Dan says after some time, mulling over his words. “We think,” he stops, looking for Phil for reassurance.

It’s there. It always has been. Things are shit right now and it’ll take time to untangle that between them but Phil is always there still. That hasn’t changed, despite it feeling like everything around them already has.

“We think it’s best we take this time right now to have a talk,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back on the counter. “About what needs to change.”

Phil’s still looking between them, waiting for someone to talk.

Dylan takes the opportunity, barking out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah,” he says taking a step back, ready to just retreat to his room. “Like I give a shit.”

Phil opens his mouth like he wants to say something; reinforce a rule he’s adamant on before he stops himself, his confidence dwindles. But Dan looks at him and nods. 

It’s all it takes.

“I don’t need to tell you again, Dylan, about using that language in this house.”

Dylan stops and looks at him.

It’s a rather threatening look and for a moment Dan has a horrid thought about the teen lashing out.

He has a clean record for physical violence but he supposed it could start at any point. It’s an awful thought but Dan stands up and away from counter just in case he needs to move between them.

“And I said, I don’t give a  _ fucking shit.” _

Each word is punched with venom, like he knows how much he’s getting under their skin.

Each little look he gives them is like a victory for him. Like he’s reeling on the fact that’s he’s building up this argument just to knock it all down in one foul swoop.

But Dan sucks in a breath and looks at him.

“Don’t talk to him like that.”

His tone is flat, yet it’s authoritative. It must take Dylan aback because he’s blinking rapidly as if trying to understand what to do next.

His brain must click, an idea coming to his head, as he grins, and looks at Dan with sharp eyes and a sick look.

And what an awful idea it was.

“And what are you gonna do about it,” he says in a low voice before he takes a slow step forward.

“Fag?”

It hurts. So much so it’s more like an actual physical blow, like he’s being uppercutted in the jaw and he’s taking a tumble down onto the cold kitchen floor.

He’s not sure what to do. His idea crumbles from beneath him and it feels like he’s falling thousands of feet down with Dylan the winner, peering down at him.

He realises he’s crying when his vision starts to become blurry. He doesn’t take notice of what’s happening next because Phil’s talking to him, his voice is stern and far away sounding and there’s the sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house.

Everything feels quiet and still until he feels arms slowly wrap around the back of his neck and he’s being pulled into familiar arms.

It feels like it’s been far too long since he’s hugged Phil, and he leans desperately into his touch, burying his head into his neck as he wills himself not to cry.

He manages, years of practice and hiding as the tears slowly disappear from his vision and he’s blinking away the burning in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

Dan isn’t really sure.

He just sighs, and Phil pulls him in closer. It’s the only thing that feels remotely good right now, and so, he doesn’t let go.

The next few days are tough.

Dan and Dylan seemingly avoid one another. 

Dan lets him get on with things, keeping out of his way and Dylan seems to oblige, happily staying out of his way.

It feels strange; not really knowing who Dylan is.

Dan has all his files, read them over a million times - knowing all about his life, all the intricate details of who he is: the medical files, the little red book that’s tracked his growth since he was born, like little file that contains all the strange and weird injuries he had as a child, including the cigarette burn in his arm when he was five, or the broken elbow when he was eight.

It’s all things Dan knows and understands and has near or less studied about.

But he doesn’t  _ know  _ Dylan.

He’s so used to knowing everything about those close to him. He knows Phil like an open box, sometimes more than he knows himself.

But Dylan’s box is wrapped up tight, and Dan has to fight to open it, like Dylan has sealed in shut with nail and hammer to make sure nobody gets in.

It’s not until one night when that all changes.

Dan walks past Dylan’s room; it’s long since changed from the little spare room they used to have, and rather gave the teen the freedom to make it his own, much like they had done at his age, luckily having much more taste than bright green carpet and horrible brown walls, and something a more modern for today’s teenage youth.

The door is ajar when Dan walks past it. He pauses - Dylan hardly has his door open when he’s in there, normally wanting to be alone and lock them both out.

He pauses and waits.

He lifts up his hand and knocks three times.

“Yeah?” A tired voice comes from inside. Dan sucks in a breath. He hadn’t really thought of what to say just yet.

He swallows thickly. 

“Do you… do you want pizza for dinner?” He asks. “We might get ice cream too, if you want.”

It doesn’t come across as entirely desperate; things are still skating across thin ice for the two of them, and right now all Dan can do is take a careful step forwards.

There’s a pause, like he’s thinking, and then.

“Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

It’s not angry, or mean or vicious for once, and it’s an almost relief.

Dan lets out a breath.

“Right,” he says. “I’ll order in some dinner then, yeah?”

There’s nothing for a moment and Dan wonders if he’s gone back to ignoring him - better than arguing he thinks, but then, the door creaks open and he’s greeted with a sorry looking face, and only then does Dan notice how young and small he looks.

“Dan?” He says. He sounds so young, much younger than how he usually sounds when he’s screaming his head off.

“Yeah?” Dan says.

Dylan gulps, and looks away when he says,

“M’sorry. I’m trying, I really am. I promise.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Dan want to cry. It’s the closest to Dylan he’s gotten to in months and it makes Dan want to jump up and sob and laugh and thank  _ god _ .

But he doesn’t, but Dylan is still an insecure teen who’s unsure of his place not only in the world but in this house.

And whilst things are far from perfect just yet, and there’s a lot to figure out and fix, it’s one step in the right direction he supposed.

He smiles, the first genuine smile in a long time and looks at the kid before him, half hiding behind the door where it feels safest.

“It’s okay,” Dan smiles with a nod of his head. It still may hurt a little, but that can be undone over time with work. “It’s okay.

And in the end, Dan believes it actually might be.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


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